Half Sorrow
by HopefulNebula
Summary: **Contest Entry, Quills' T/T contest** Trip and T'Pol talk while she convalesces from the events in "Fusion."


Title: Half Sorrow

Author: HopefulNebula (HopefulNebula@hotmail.com)

Rating: I think it's PG, but it's officially PG-13. There's a lot of mature subject matter in here.

Summary: Trip and T'Pol talk while she convalesces from the events in "Fusion." This is my entry for Quills' T/T contest.

Spoilers: Lots for "Fusion" (well, duh)

Disclaimer: I don't own, but that you knew / Just having fun, so please don't sue. 

Feedback: Please. Constructive criticism is my lifeblood. All flames will be cheerfully returned to the sender.

This is for TMCR and all the others who've been there.

~~~~~

__

Joy shared is twice joy. Sorrow shared is half sorrow. ~~Swedish proverb

~~~~~

She was in the mess hall again. Though she took pains not to show it, T'Pol was uncomfortable here. _This is where it started,_ she thought. _This is where Tolaris began taking advantage of me._ It had been deserted then, as it was now. The lights were dimmed, and it was almost eerily still. She generally enjoyed the quiet and solitude she found at hours such as these, but now it was disconcerting. Who would be next? Who would walk in now, whisper in her ear, and leave her on a biobed in Sickbay?

She struggled to break this cycle of fear. Everything reminded her of Tolaris now—her own quarters most of all, but also every part of the ship, every nebula, every mention of Vulcan. Once she thought of him, she found it nearly impossible to stop her thoughts and emotions for quite some time afterward.

They permeated her basic essence; the fear made it difficult to get to sleep and then troubled her dreams. She had trouble concentrating while awake. The doctor had told her that it would subside, but she found that hard to believe when the terror wouldn't abate. It seemed to grow exponentially inside her until she felt that she couldn't survive another instant of it.

But she was Vulcan; she would endure.

__

Tolaris is Vulcan as well, T'Pol reminded herself, then immediately regretted the thought. Her pain again increased. She needed to get out of the mess hall before her emotions consumed her.

She also needed sustenance, and there was none elsewhere. The only place there was any nourishing food was now one of the places that was most uncomfortable for her.

__

I will get my food and I will leave, she decided. _Nothing more. It would be illogical to subject myself to this any longer. I will control myself. Even as he held my mind, I was able to push him away. I am stronger than he is. But why does the thought of him still hurt me? He still has that power._

At this point, one set of doors opened. Had she not been Vulcan, T'Pol would have reacted more strongly, but she was still startled by their sound. She paused, fixing her gaze on the doors, waiting to find out who waited behind them.

"Good evening, T'Pol. It's good to see you're up," said the welcoming, optimistic voice of Trip Tucker. "How are you doing today?"

She visibly paused before answering. What should she say? If she said she was fine, she would be lying. Had she been speaking to most others, she would have no qualms about doing so. However, she trusted this engineer more implicitly than any other on the ship. She had confided in him many times before, and felt compelled to do the same now, though she wanted to leave. She chose to be honest.

"I am… not doing well."

"I'm sorry to hear that… Maybe we could eat together? Chef made another pecan pie. Perhaps you'd enjoy a taste of it this time. It always makes me feel better," he suggested.

"Please. I also would enjoy some of whatever else is available, provided it doesn't contain meat."

"Sure thing. Just give me a second. You sit down and we can talk."

Trip gathered the food together. First, he shuttled two plates, each with a generously sized slice of pie, onto the table T'Pol had chosen. Then, he returned with a cup of Vulcan tea and two bowls of macaroni and cheese, placed them in front of the Sub-Commander, and sat across from her.

"So… what's the matter?"

T'Pol lingered for a moment over her tea before speaking. When she did break the silence, her voice betrayed a vulnerability that Trip had never seen in T'Pol before. "I constantly find myself… preoccupied by what happened with Tolaris. My thoughts center on our mind-meld. They are unsettling and disturbing, and I cannot control them. I may decide to leave Enterprise if they do not subside."

"That's perfectly understandable, T'Pol. You know, a lot of times when something bad happens, humans need to talk about it… describe it to a friend."

"What purpose would that serve? I want to stop thinking about him."

"Think about it like this," said Trip. "Telling somebody would help ease the pain because it would be sharing it."

"But I have already given my statement." T'Pol seemed to be growing more puzzled with each passing moment.

"That was the official statement. Details are what make it work the best. And if you want, you can tell it from whenever it started for you, instead of simply the mind-meld." He noticed her expression again. It was no longer puzzled, but pained. He quickly appended, "You don't have to if you don't want—"

She interrupted him, "I… will tell you if you are willing to listen."

"Of course I'm willin', T'Pol. This is what friends are for," he said.

She told him of her initial distaste for Tolaris, of the invasive questions he had asked in the mess hall and aboard his ship. She mentioned the strange sensation she had felt when he had nuzzled her. She spoke of her curiosity about emotions and his exploitation of that curiosity. Her voice cracked once as she described her dream, and again at her retelling of the sensation of their minds meeting. Trip could have sworn he saw her eyes water slightly as she expressed how she had to force him away after he ignored her pleas to stop. She was surprised to feel tears forming small rivulets down her cheeks. They felt surprisingly good against her face.

When T'Pol had finished, she found it difficult to look at Trip's face, but forced herself to do so.

"T'Pol… I see why you're having so much trouble dealing with what happened," he whispered. "That wasn't assault. That was _rape_, pure and simple."

"No. I consented to the mind-meld, ignoring all logic. The liability is mine alone."

"It was not your fault. You may have consented to the meld, but he manipulated you into that. Then, you told him to stop. You gave him ample opportunity to leave your mind, but he didn't. He wouldn't have. This was _his fault_ as soon as you told him to stop. You said no. _You are the victim here_."

"Then it was my own doing before then."

"No! No…" Trip told T'Pol. He had never seen her so vulnerable, so fragile, so emotional. _I can't blame her,_ he decided. _Not after what she just told me._ Almost unconsciously, he took one of her hands in both of his own.

T'Pol was stunned by what she felt in this simple gesture. Her weakened mental state allowed his mind to brush lightly against her own. Normally she would have recoiled, but this night she welcomed the contact, absently wondering if he was able to feel her presence.

He did. Trip felt her sorrow and was struck by its force, pulled into it. He'd had no idea she could feel so purely, so strongly. Intuitively, he removed one of his hands from hers and lightly brushed it against her soft cheek. She leaned into his touch, relishing the physical and mental contact. This was a strange night indeed, and it got even stranger when T'Pol instinctively mirrored Trip's gesture.

It was not a full meld, nothing like what T'Pol had experienced in the hands of Tolaris. Yet it was enough to allow the Vulcan to realize one important truth.

"You… have dealt with this before," she said weakly.

"Yes. My baby sister Catherine… She was everyone's favorite. None of us thought anything about it when she started dating Stephen. Then one night, after a 'study session,' he carried her up to her room and…" He choked, unable to continue, but composed himself and began his next sentence. "She was only fifteen! She was never the same afterwards. Everything was always about Stephen. Catherine refused to think about anything else. None of it was her fault, but she wouldn't believe it. I'd hate for you to go through so much pain. T'Pol, you are stronger than the pain. He cut you down, but you will grow. You are the most intelligent, resilient person I know. You can survive. You _will_ survive."

They remained like this for what seemed an eternity before either changed position. An important act of healing had just taken place, and both knew it.

"Thank you… Trip," T'Pol said with a measure of confidence. "I will not forget what you have done for me tonight."

"I still don't think that healing's complete. Ready for some of that comfort food?"

"Please." T'Pol found the term "comfort food" to be quite accurate; there was something indefinable about the dishes in front of her that continued her healing process. They ate in silence for a minute before she asked hesitantly, "Trip?"

There was an extended pause in which T'Pol considered repeating her question. The commander swallowed noisily, however, and responded. "Yeah, T'Pol?"

"When we connected… I felt something from you that suggests you might harbor feelings towards me. Do you?"

Trip could hardly keep from dropping his fork into his bowl. How could she have sensed _that_? Yet he also had felt something. Was it possible that she reciprocated? He had always thought Vulcans incapable of such feeling. _Of course, I'd always thought they couldn't feel anything. Guess tonight proved that wrong,_ he decided. _I'll tell her._ "Yes… You know, I could ask _you_ the same question."

She paused for a moment, as surprised as the commander had been earlier. He had always been stunningly perceptive of her, this night was no exception. His eyes searched her, awaiting a response. She tried to speak, but couldn't. Instead, she leaned across the table and kissed him gently.

Trip looked at T'Pol, stunned. Silenetly, he used his fork to cut a small piece of pie and place it in T'Pol's mouth. She visibly reacted, enjoying the idea. They fed each other until both their slices of pie were gone.

"Would you like to go back to your quarters?" Trip asked, and T'Pol found that for the first time in weeks, her answer was _yes_.


End file.
